


Jungle

by Artemis_Day



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Human, Apocalypse, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Jane Foster Needs a Hug, Post-Apocalypse, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Twilight Zone based, War Aftermath, rarepair, survival guilt, they both should just hug, though he's only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Day/pseuds/Artemis_Day
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane Foster, the last woman left after the end of the world, discovers on a routine scavenging trip that she is not quite as alone as she thought she was.  Based on the Twilight Zone episode, Two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jungle

**Author's Note:**

> "This is a jungle, a monument built by nature honoring disuse, commemorating a few years of nature being left to its own devices. But it's another kind of jungle, the kind that comes in the aftermath of man's battles against himself. Hardly an important battle, not a Gettysburg, or a Marne, or an Iwo Jima; more like one insignificant corner patch in the crazy quilt of combat. But it was enough to end the existence of this little city." - Rod Serling, from the opening narration of the episode, Two.

It was the 987th day since Jane Foster had seen another human. She kept count in a faded brown notebook filled with straight, one inch tick marks. Currently, that notebook was sandwiched between a larger notebook Jane kept from the old days, and a beat up science textbook that she'd pulled out of the rubble of a university building. Aside from those three things, the backpack strapped over her shoulders was empty. One who traveled as much as she did learned to pack lightly.

There was a town roughly a mile away. She'd been walking towards it for the last day and a half. The last of her food rations had been used up this morning. One final can of peas danced around in her pocket. She could only hope she'd find something vacuum sealed with protein this time. Her last two stops had borne no fruit beyond can of pickled pig's feet and some baby food. She hadn't had any fresh greens since those leaves the botany section of her text claimed were edible. Such was the way of the barren world she inhabited.

She thought about setting up camp for the night. The position of the sun told her that it would be night time within the next hour. Experience dictated that attempting to travel through heavily wooded areas ran high risk of running into packs of wild dogs that would have her cowering in a tree until they got bored of her. Still, she pressed on, for no reason but to keep her feet moving.

The tallest building to the left reflected the sunlight. It shined a beam down in front of her feet, guiding her through the fields and past the rusted CITY LIMITS sign. Jane felt for the cell phone in her pocket. It had lost power some nine hundred and fifty tick marks ago. Sometimes, she liked to look at the blank gray screen and pretend she was reading the messages in her inbox. She knew them all by heart.

A degraded soda can embedded in a pile of dirt was the first sign of civilization Jane had seen since the last city. She stepped over it. Her foot landed on a crumpled bit of paper too faded from the sun to hope at reading. The faint remains of a capital D were all that was left. It could have been a bank statement once upon a time, or a business letter, or maybe just simple spam mail. All of it was the same now anyway.

After the paper and the can came chunks of cement and cracked sidewalks rife with overgrowth. Jane kept her eyes on her feet in case she missed something sharp. Among the general scattering of debris, there wasn't a single human bone to be found. That meant this must have been one of the cities they evacuated when the war broke out. It was far more than Jane could say for some of the other places she'd happened upon.

At the entrance to the town was a building with a sign reading 'MARKET'. It looked like there had been more once, but a combination of time and some kind of explosive force had eliminated it. The entire front was caved in, making it look as though the building was being sucked into itself. Jane took one step, eyed the largest rock by the shattered glass doors that was taller than two of her, and took three steps back. She wasn't that hungry yet.

She heard a thud in the distance, like something big falling from a fair distance up. She glanced in that direction, but thought nothing of it. In an eroding city like this, things were bound to be falling apart. Half the buildings on this street were little more than dust, and those were the ones feeding into the heart of the city. It wasn't bound to get much better from here.

Jane found a clear path that led to a street in decent shape. The first two stores on both sides were a record store (not helpful) and a pet store (last resort). She read off names where she could. Some were chain stores like Hollister or Yankee Candle. She found a CVS Pharmacy and smiled at the memory of that teenager who worked the checkout counter and made adorably awkward attempts at flirting.

The rest of the stores were smaller. This must have been one of those very close knit places where everybody knew each other's names. Jane's heart clenched at the thought. She took a steadying breath and continued onward, humming a tuneless song to relax herself.

Two blocks away was another grocery store. This one was smaller than the last, but the doors were wide open. Jane walked inside, letting her backpack slide off her shoulders. The unzipped top hung open like a wide, gaping mouth. Jane ignored the foul smell coming from the corner of the store that had been dedicated to produce. The canned goods section was just in sight.

From deep within the aisles came a second thud.

Jane froze. A sealed can of beans slipped out between her fingers. By a stroke of luck, it landed away from her books, cushioned by the padded bottom of the bag so that it made no sound. Pressing herself into the nearest wall, Jane reached into her pocket for her switchblade. To date, she hadn't had to use it for anything except prying cans open. If she found herself face to face with some kind of ferocious animal, she didn't know what she would do. There wasn't a single climbing tree in sight.

There were no more thuds, but as Jane's fight or flight instincts kicked in, she found herself tuning out all background noise. All birds and gusts of wind seemed to have muted. What remained was shuffling against the floor tiles, and the squeak of ripping tape. An empty box flew over the top of the next aisle over, thrown with incredible force. Jane held the knife close to her heaving chest and swallowed back the urge to scream. She released the blade, careful not to accidentally stab herself, and moved back towards the doors. She kept her body flat, resisting the urge to crane her neck up to try and get a look at what she was dealing with.

Knowing her luck, it was another mountain lion or a grey wolf. Either one was bound to be ravenous, and if it hadn't caught her scent in the air yet, there was no reason for Jane to give it another way of finding her.

It felt like ages before she made it back to produce. She held her breath before the stench made her gag. Eying the entryway, she calculated a distance of about eight feet from where she stood to the outside world and (relative) safety. If she kept up her current pace, she could be out of here in roughly sixteen steps over the course of the next four and a half minutes. That was only if whatever was tearing up the back of the store didn't get bored and come looking for fresh meat. Another box went flying in the meantime, and with it came a grunt that Jane could almost mistake for human. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, a calming technique she'd learned years ago from a friend she should have kept in touch with. She'd never before thought it would work, but if it kept her alive and out of danger, she'd try anything up to and including praying for God's mercy.

She slid one foot exactly seven inches forward, then brought the other one up to join it. She slid another six inches. Only six feet and eleven inches left, and she'd been home free.

A clatter of metal on cement stopped Jane's heart mid beat. Eyes wide and palms sweaty, she looked down at her shaking hands and the canned peas that had slipped out of her backpack. It rolled into the groove of a long and thick crack, every sound a gunshot to Jane's ears.

All noises from the back of the store ceased.

Jane's heart had restarted. Now she could hear it in her ears, pounding so fast and hard that she thought her ears might bleed. Her legs no longer moved, though the rest of her screamed that it was time to run. Heavy stomps grew louder, a dark shadow appearing out the corner of Jane's eye. It was all she could do not to drop the knife. Her life flashed before her eyes- from early memories, to her first date, to graduation, to getting her doctorate, to the war breaking out, to everyone dying, to surviving alone for three years against all odds-

She would have to fight if she wanted another day on earth. Even though she had no idea what she was facing-with steps like that it could be a bear for all she knew- and even though she had nothing to live for except herself.

With a strangled cry, she waved the knife in the air around the raised barrel of a gun.

Jane stared at it. It was not an unfamiliar sight. During the worst days of the war, she could expect to find herself staring down a gun at least twice a week. Over time, it had become less and less frightening. The people behind it were usually scared, desperate, but not killers the way a hardened soldier would be. They always gave Jane ample time to escape. They might have hesitated for too long on purpose or only intended to scare her. Somehow, Jane didn't think that was the case here, for the man in front of her had the classic look of a world weary, battled hardened soldier. The kind who would shoot first and ask questions later, and Jane would be on her knees begging for her life if she wasn't in a state of shock because _there was a living breathing **human being** standing in front of her_.

He was just about six feet tall and wore a thick blue coat over baggy pants. His clothes were such that Jane couldn't tell what lay underneath, but his broad shoulders suggested that he was in pretty good shape. His hair was long and wild, his face sporting a full beard. His blue eyes, undoubtedly his most stunning feature, stared down at her with dawning surprise that matched her own. Whatever he had expected to find when he charged out here, she was not it.

They stood motionless for longer than Jane knew. She had no gauge of the sun's position from here, and not the capacity to worry about it. Somewhere in her frazzled mind, there was a hazy thought that her streak was broken, and she'd have to start a new notebook of tick marks.

Out of nowhere, the man made a sound; a strange cross between a mumble and a sigh. Just like that, the spell over Jane was broken, and she could move again. She dropped the knife and fell to her knees, her hands up in surrender..

"Don't shoot!" she said, a little proud that her words didn't crack. She read out loud to herself whenever she could, in the hopes that her voice wouldn't go from disuse. "Please, I'm a civilian. I don't mean you any harm. Please don't shoot."

The soldier eyed her, studying her in such a way that reminded Jane of her days in the lab, pouring over data, looking for the answers to life's greatest questions. He had yet to put the gun away, though his finger had slid off the trigger. Jane didn't know if this was a good thing or not, but she knew better than to press her luck. She bent her head low in submission. She said nothing more despite the urge to go on begging for her life. She made herself look small, as weak and unthreatening as anyone could ever hope to be.

He lowered the gun.

It fell to his side near a holster strapped to his thigh. There was another one just like in on his other leg, with another gun in place. Jane gulped.

She looked up to see him staring straight ahead. He shook his head as he put the gun away and stepped over her to walk out the door. Jane scurried to her feet, grabbing the knife and, for whatever stupid reason, the can of peas and holding them close. He stepped out into the street. The first person she had seen in over three years was walking away from her.

Jane took a step.

"не иди за мной!"

His voice cut through the air and hit Jane like a physical blow. It stopped her dead in her tracks. Whatever language he spoke was not one that Jane knew, but though his words were unintelligible, the meaning was clear. He disappeared from sight amid a steadily growing wind, and Jane didn't follow him.

**

Jane enjoyed a nice breakfast the next morning. 'Nice' equated to a can of peaches and some edible grass, but she ate heartily all the same.

She sat on a hilltop overlooking the town. From so far up, she could see everything. The buildings were battered and bruised around the edges, working their way into the mess of rubble at the center. Some of the structures still standing looked like one gust of wind would send them over. They all shared the same emptiness, and deafening silence. Three years ago, this had been a bustling city; now it was a lifeless husk. Just like the rest of the world.

It had been approximately fifteen hours since Jane saw the soldier. For a while after he left, she'd wondered if she hadn't just imagined him. She flipped through her notebook. The pages upon pages of seemingly endless tick marks. They varied in size, color, and thickness, dependent on what kind of writing utensils Jane had at the time. She counted them all, from the first to the nine hundred and eighty seventh. Almost one thousand days without human contact. Two years, eight months, one week, and six days since she had so much as heard a voice that wasn't hers. If her mind started conjuring up delusions to make up for the loneliness, that was just to be expected, right?

Some time after he left, Jane had cautiously returned to her scavenging mission. She found overturned boxes and jars spilled out over the floor. There were fresh scuff marks leading to the entrance and footprints in spots where the tiling had rotted away. Comparisons showed they were at least two sizes too big to be hers.

Which meant that Jane was no longer alone in the world.

She put away her notebook for the fourth or fifth time. She kept taking it back out just to stare at the pages. There were only eleven left that hadn't been filled. All of them were wrinkled and water stained. She always said she'd find a new one before running out of room in this one, but she never went looking. She rationalized that food and water took precedence over some maegar form of timekeeping, and so the ratty old book held together by string and tape stayed in her bag.

After finishing her food, Jane relaxed in the grass, her head cushioned on a pillow fashioned out of some soft leaves stuffed into her jacket. She adjusted herself as the zipper poked her cheek. The gentle rolling of the stream had her drifting off. She closed her eyes for five minutes, only to open them again an hour later. The sun was now at its highest point directly in front of her eyes. Jane groaned and rolled on her stomach. She felt around for her water jug, found it, and wrapped her fingers around the plastic handle to bring it in.

No water.

With a sigh, Jane stretched her tired muscles and shook her legs to wake them up. The stream was only about twenty feet away and hidden by a massive boulder. A mother duck and her babies swam in a line upstream, and Jane smiled as the mother went back to nudge along a baby who was moving too slow.

The stream fed into a pond with clear waters. It looked suitable for drinking as far as Jane could tell. Her success rate in determining what would or would not have her vomiting all night was around eighty five percent, odds she liked when her throat was this dry. She uncapped the bottle; the pond was just coming into view around the boulder.

Before she saw it, there was a brown shoulder bag propped up against a tree stump. That alone would have been unsettling without the cache of weapons- far more than any human being should logically be able to carry- laid out beside it. Then came the clothes, a full set of regulation army gear, the kind a decorated officer would wear.

The soldier was in the water, his back to her. He poured a bucket of water over his head, his long hair sticking to his shoulders. He dropped the bucket to scrub the dirt off his arms and neck. The canteen slipped out of Jane's grip, landing softly and once more saving her from a bullet to the face. She fell to one side, the boulder breaking her fall. He grabbed a rag from the bank and started running along his back, maneuvering himself this way and that, clearly struggling with a difficult area.

 _'You could do that for him,'_ said a voice in Jane's head that she hadn't heard in years.

It brought a mad blush to her face, and she lowered her head in a desperate bid to banish the image of his rather… developed back and shoulder muscles. She peeked through her fingers to find him almost all the way around, exposing a defined chest and stomach that only made things worse.

"Oh God." Jane leaned back into the shadows out of sight. She moved her foot off a pebble into the mud. It made an unfortunate squelch when she put weight on it.

The soldier paused. Sharp eyes scanned the area, passing Jane by (or so she hoped) as she curled up under the boulder. One foot slipped out, and she hastily pulled it back in. Never before would she have believed that she could ever feel huge, but her body was simply too big to effectively hide here. The sun would continue its dragging pace towards the horizon. Within the hour, the shadows would be gone, and she would lose all protection. Her only hope was that he would leave before then, or that if he did see her, she'd have time to run before he got his hands on the gun.

She counted down the seconds, getting to sixty and starting again. She repeated it two more times. Four whole minutes. She hadn't heard a peep from the soldier.

She thought about looking, almost had herself fully convinced that it was safe, but that nagging sense of foreboding refused to leave her. It kept her frozen uncomfortably against this boulder, with a fragmented edge of rock digging into her spine. The shade was long gone. All he would have to do, assuming he was still in the water, was turn his head just a little...

It took a greater level of mental will than Jane knew she had to take a look. The waters were still, and calm, and empty. He was gone, but his things remained on the riverbank. All that was missing were some of his clothes .

A twig snapped behind her. Jane felt like ice water had been poured down her back. She didn't need to see him to know.

He had only put his pants on. His undershirt was thrown over his shoulder. He was standing much closer than Jane expected. He either had no concept of personal space or just wanted to see how she'd react to a face full of his abs. So long as unabashed gawking and incoherent stammering was what he was going for, he would be more than satisfied with the results.

Jane finally tore her eyes away as she got to her feet. He was even bigger up close, all scarred, tan skin stretched over thick muscle. His hands were rough and calloused from hard labour. His arms were crossed, making it very hard not to notice the size of his biceps. Glancing away from him lest she stare again, Jane relaxed back into her 'unthreatening' pose.

"I didn't mean to spy on you," she said. "I was just looking for some water. Please forgive me."

It occurred to her that he had spoken another language yesterday. Russian was her guess, though she couldn't be sure. There was a good chance he didn't understand English. Every word she just said could have been complete gibberish to him.

Whether it was or it wasn't, his reaction was the same. He turned away, pulling the undershirt on over his head. Strangely, he never seemed to get very far away though he never stopped walking. As soon as the thought hit her, Jane felt her legs moving.

 _'What the hell are you doing following him?'_ She slowed down just a tad when he glanced over his shoulder, but kept moving. _'No, no, don't do that. Stop right now. Stop it, Jane. Stop walking or else make a run for it. Anything but this.'_

She stayed with him as he was suiting up. His wet hair had been tied back, and still dripped in places down his back. Parts were still exposed to Jane's eyes, and her fingers twitched at the thought of running them along those shoulders until every drop of water was gone.

He put on his outer jacket. Jane noticed the insignia was missing. There was a shoddily stitched circle on the forearm where it should have been. It was easy to imagine what had happened there, but harder to explain.

"Why is…?" The question died on her lips. His glare was softer than yesterday, and disappeared faster, but it was potent all the same and it could kill a small animal.

After checking his weapons and re-arming himself, they began their trek back to town. Jane kept at least two steps behind him at all times, slowing down and speeding up as needed. Though he didn't seem interested in shaking her off, neither did he slow down for her. He didn't break stride even when Jane tripped over a rock and fell flat on her face.

"I know it must be pretty overwhelming seeing another person alive after so long," she said. She'd never been terribly social as a child, but if she was around someone, and no one was talking, she felt compelled to be the one to break the ice. "Before yesterday, I was sure that I was the only person left on the planet, or at least in this country."

They passed the city limits sign. A group of crows had congrated there and turned ominous stares their way.

"Oh, and I'm Jane by the way. I'm a… or I was a physicist. That was before the war when I worked as a medic. I'd taken some nursing classes in college, so they just had to give me a few additional lessons on things like changing bandages and administering shots and then I was all set. I mean, I guess I didn't make much difference in the end but I was still happy to have helped in some way."

She smiled for the sake of it. She had nothing left to say, and the soldier contributed nothing other than an odd stare like he didn't know why she was telling him this.

They walked on, him at the lead removing obstacles in their path. Jane learned that those muscles were not just for show when he threw aside a pile of thick wooden planks like they were made of tissue paper. She also learned that he really knew his way around those guns. They happened upon a herd of rabbits sniffing around some weeds. In an instant, the soldier had his shotgun up and sent a bullet straight through the heart of the biggest rabbit. The others scattered, but he took out one more with ease.

As night fell, they sat around the campfire, watching the rabbit meat cook. Jane ate her portion quietly, not looking up from her plate. Without seasoning, the rabbit was almost completely bland, but it was the first fresh meat she'd had in years. That alone made it the best thing she had ever tasted.

The soldier laid out his blankets for the night. He had a few battered quilts that looked so much more comfortable than a bed of leaves and grass. Jane cast a longing look as he removed a smaller blanket from his bag and folded it up into a makeshift pillow.

Something else had fallen out of his bag into the grass. In the dying firelight, Jane could just make out a worn out color photograph. It showed two men. Jane got a little closer while the soldier's back was turned. The man on the right, with his arm around the other man, could only be the soldier himself. He looked so different, though. Young and fresh faced. His hair was neatly cut and his face clean shaven. He wore a happy grin like he hadn't a care in the world. His friend was much the same, though his skin bore a sickly pallor, and Jane couldn't help but note how much smaller and skinnier he was.

The picture was snatched up. Jane gasped as the soldier pressed it to his chest and glared at her. Holding it like a lifeline, he hovered over Jane, his superior size alone enough to intimidate her. Jane backed as far away as the thicket of trees would let her. She found some good sized leaves and a soft patch of grass. She faced away from him and threw her coat over her body, falling asleep to the chirping of crickets.

**

The soldier was gone when Jane woke up, but he had left a trail.

The fire had died out. The stick they'd used to roast the rabbit was on the ground and bore smudges resembling finger marks. It pointed due north, in the direction of the city. A few spare chunks of meat were strewn about some inches away. Jane gathered her things and followed them towards the city. She noticed less debris in the road and fewer weeds. There was noise coming from where that grocery store had been.

Jane adjusted her backpack and started in that direction.

A growl made her freeze.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. It had come from hardly twenty feet away behind her. Her ears perked up, attuned to the heavy rumble. She turned slowly, no sudden movements, to face the grizzly bear. It was sniffing the air over its head, scenting her out. It lowered coal black eyes at her and let out a roar. The sound ripped through Jane and she fell deaf for one agonizing moment.

The bear charged.

Jane sucked in a breath to scream.

A gunshot rang through the air, scaring away a flock of birds that cawed in fear as they flew towards the sun.

Jane's knees gave out and she fell to the ground. Breathing heavily, she crawled away from the bear, a lifeless heap with a bullet in its head. She stopped as she hit something hard and looked up at the soldier's bemused face. The smoking gun was at his side, the butt in the dirt. He pursed his lips.

"ты идиотка"

That sounded rude. Jane made a note to raid the bookstore for an English to Russian dictionary as soon as possible.

She there a while to let the shock wear off. The soldier didn't wait for her. He re-entered the town and disappeared into the grocery store. He came out just as Jane felt like moving again. His arms were full of canned goods which he spread out on the table at a cafe they found across the street. Jane covered her nose against the smell of rotted coffee emitting from behind the counter. If the soldier was bothered, he didn't show it.

All in all, he'd recovered four cans of beans, five cans of creamed corn, six cans of peas, and eight cans of solid white tuna. The last ones Jane set aside from the rest. It would be wonderful to get some seafood, but not worth the food poisoning. Braving the stench, Jane rummaged around the counter while the soldier read the label on a can of beans.

"Yes!" Jane held her prize over her head. A rusted but still perfectly usable can opener.

Finding clean plates was even easier, as was fishing some spoons out of the sink. Jane wiped them off on the cleanest part of her shirt and brought them all back to the table. She ate quickly, not bothering to commit the sweetness of the creamed corn to memory. She was thinking about that flavorless rabbit after only the second bite.

"So uh…" she said, gauging the soldier for his reaction. He just kept on eating. "Thank you for what you did back there. Saving me from that bear and all."

He glanced up, his eyes covered by shaggy hair.

"And I wanted to apologize for last night." Jane took another bite of corn. "I wasn't trying to snoop or anything, I just didn't know that picture was special to you."

He kept eating, but his motions were less fluid and more deliberate.

"You know, I had this really good friend. Darcy, her name was." Jane laughed, remembering Darcy's loud voice and talkative ways. "She was my intern one summer when I was still a physicist, but she wound up being more like a sleepover buddy than an employee. She helped me through breaking up with my boyfriend and got me on all this social media. Even after she went back to school, she texted me every day just to see how I was doing."

Jane dropped the spoon. She'd been gripping it too hard and the metal was hurting her hand.

"Then war was declared, and I had to leave my research behind. She was evacuated with the rest of her town, but even then I could expect a new text from her every morning. It was always little things like, 'have a good day' or 'miss you bunches.' 'Bunches', she wrote. Have you ever heard anything like that?"

He stopped eating. He wasn't looking at her, but his hand was stationary. The spoon was stuck in the mushy corn. His fingers were stiff.

"And then one morning after another attack, I checked my phone, and… and there was no text from her. There wasn't one the next morning either. Or the next." Jane swallowed, fighting back tears. She dropped her hand to clutch the dead cell phone through her pocket "Darcy never texted me again."

The table shifted. Jane looked up just in time to watch the soldier leave out the door. He didn't taken a single can with him.

** 

There was a hotel on the south side of town. It was modern, though not part of any chain Jane recognized. Without a card key, there was no way she'd be able to get through the fortified doors. Luckily, as she climbed the stairs to the second floor, there was one room open. It was messy inside, but acceptable. Jane made the bed and cleared away some old garbage, and had a good night's sleep, even as her dreams were plagued by the faces of Darcy, and of the soldier, and of the small blonde man who had smiled in the photo with him.

The next morning, she ate breakfast alone before venturing out. She found the soldier right away in front of a barbershop. He didn't appear to see her, walking inside without so much as a glance in her direction. Jane debated following him. They seemed to have an accord for now, but she had no idea what could break it. If she went in there now and he just wanted to be alone, they could end up right back at square one, with him wanting nothing to do with her, and her all alone.

But there was no point in worrying about that, was there?

The doors to the barbershop were shut tight, but the glass panes had been crushed into a fine powder ages ago. Jane stepped over them without trouble. The inside was even more of a mess. Hair rollers and scissor blades littered the floor and chairs were overturned on all sides. The receptionists desk was little more than a black char mark on the wall. Jane turned away, going pale as she thought she saw a handprint in the ash.

The soldier was in the back, in front of the only mirror intact enough to be of any use. He had an open package of razors on the sink and a bottle of shaving cream. He splashed water on his face- where did he get that from- and dried himself off with a towel. Without the beard, it was easier to connect him to the man in the photograph. He looked older for sure, his eyes aged past their years by the hell he'd lived through, but no less handsome.

Jane moved abruptly, jostling a cart carrying more shaving supplies. He whirled around, relaxing when he saw her. Jane didn't even bother to put up her hands.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," she said weakly. "But uh… you look good. Not that you didn't look good before or anything-"

He walked around her. He grabbed his bag and his weapons and left Jane to run after him.

The two wandered along the ruined landscape. The soldier continued to move things out of their way and shot a passing duck for their dinner later. He'd spared Jane having to collect and wrap it like she had reluctantly done for the rabbits the day before. All she had to do was carry it in her backpack, her books shoved to the side and covered in plastic bag that would hopefully protect them from blood spatter.

They had been lucky enough to find a bookstore. Jane had been excited until the soldier pointed out a beam that had fallen and taken out the whole right side. They went in regardless, and Jane was happy to find that both the fiction section and the science section were untouched. She sat down on a plush armchair with 'The Murder of Roger Ackroyd' and proceeded to devour the whole thing while the soldier stayed by the entrance keeping watch. That was what Jane assumed he was doing with that gun in his hands, stock still and staring out at the street.

"Why don't you come sit down?" She asked. He didn't move. "You've been standing there for three hours. You must be tired."

He didn't move but to roll his shoulders.

"Do you like to read?"

Nothing.

"I've always loved books ever since I was a little girl. Agatha Christie is my favorite. If you want, I could help you find something you… might like..."

Jane sunk down as the silence thickened. The book had slipped from her grasp, but she made no move to pick it up.

 _'Why do I bother?'_ She thought to herself. _'He's not going to answer. I don't even know if he can. If only the reference section wasn't destroyed, I could have found that Russian language dictionary. It just figures that when I finally find human companionship, it's with someone who either can't talk to me or doesn't want to.'_

Jane skimmed through the last few chapters. She already knew the whole story by heart. She browsed the science books for a bit and then left the store with the soldier on her tail. For the next few hours, they walked. Jane no longer tried to make conversation, just counted their steps and felt the wind blowing at their faces. The soldier's hair fell into his eyes, yet he seemed unperturbed. Jane flexed her fingers, fighting the urge to move it back behind his ears and find out if it was as soft as it looked.

Such thoughts forced her to acknowledge how out of place the long hair looked against a clear face and military uniform. Strange how he'd thought to shave, yet never once touched one of the dozen or so pairs of scissors in that barbershop.

 _'Maybe he just likes it that way,'_ she wondered.

They entered a part of the city Jane had yet to explore. This was one of the more deteriorated spots, with many buildings little more than ash and rubble. A toy store on the corner was trashed, toy cars and Barbies all over the street. Jane almost stepped on a sun bleached baby doll. It let out a distorted 'Mama' when she kicked it out of the way.

The dress shop was by far in the best shape. Clothes were still displayed in the front window. A white, classy ballroom gown on a headless mannequin caught Jane's eye. It was the kind of thing she would have bought for some kind of black tie event that she'd inevitably skip out on to do some reading or analyze new data. Still, it was a pretty dress; sleeveless with a jewel encrusted bodice, and a flowing skirt. She could see someone wearing it as a wedding dress. She might have done that herself even if she'd ever had the chance to find someone.

"очень мило"

The soldier nodded at the dress. He wouldn't look at her, but whatever he said sounded a lot more pleasant than the last two times he spoke. It might have even been a compliment. They walked a little further. Another, larger grocery store sat on the opposite end of the street. There was bound to be a much better selection for their scavenging efforts there.

Before Jane could suggest it, a team of ducks flew by. A few feathers rained down and landed at Jane's feet. The soldier drew his gun and fired without a moment's hesitation, securing tomorrow's dinner while tonight's still rested in her backpack. Jane tensed at the sound. Her ears would be ringing for the rest of the day now.

He'd been less precise this time. The duck fell out of the air, killed instantly by the bullet, but its landing came too quick on a mountain of old car parts. It sat on the edge of a battered Toyota atop the pile, teetering slightly, but not enough to fall over. The soldier clicked his tongue. Tossing the gun over his back, he found a spot to start climbing. The pile was at least ten feet tall and didn't look very sturdy. Jane wanted to say something, but physics beat her to it as the mass shifted, causing the soldier to lose his balance. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding an ungraceful fall. The movement had done nothing to jostle his kill from where it lay out of reach. He stood back to assess the problem, but whatever solution he could come up with, it wasn't bound to be as simple (or as stupid) as Jane's.

She started at the same point he had, grabbing the end of a muffler to pull herself up. Jane felt around with her foot for a spot to wedge it in, but then a large hand wrapped around her arm. Jane looked down at the soldier, his brow knitted and his mouth forming words she couldn't make out.

"What?" She jerked away. "It's better if I do it. I'm lighter than you."

Jane found a place to dig her foot in and climbed higher. She moved slowly so not to disturb anything. The tower shook and whined under her weight, but held firm. Jane had never been one to fear height, but she kept her eyes on the sky and the hint of a duckbill getting closer and closer. The one time she did look down, the soldier was watching her. He waited at the foot of the junk pile, arms half out as a light sheen of sweat coated his forehead. Jane's foot slid, and he moved closer, arms fully outstretched. She kept climbing. The duck was in arm's reach as she gripped the car by the open side window. She just needed a few more inches, and then she could throw it down to him and get back on the sweet, solid ground.

"I think…" she felt for the duck. A feather got caught between her fingers and she shuddered knowing she was about to literally touch a dead animal. "I think I've got it!"

She pushed the duck with one big sweep of her arm, losing her grip on the window as she pitched forward. There was a single, heart-stopping second as her feet lost their purchase, and then she was freefalling.

Realistically, a fall from this height wasn't going to kill her. The worst she could expect was a broken bone here or there- not that that was something to take lightly in a world with no doctors or anesthetic. Jane screamed all the same, half from surprise and half from fright, all the way down until a pair of strong arms broke her fall. The soldier let out a grunt, wobbling a little before regaining his balance. He moved an arm out from under Jane's back to support her head and take some of the pressure off his neck. Wrapping her arms around him like that had been purely instinctive, as surely as his catching her at all had been. The thought of loosening her grip was meaningless all the same. Her hands spread over his back, feeling just how hard those muscles were without shame. She have to chalk that one up to the shock of the fall clouding her thoughts and leaving her unaware of her actions.

But man, this guy was so incredibly hot up close, it was insane.

He dropped her to her feet, making sure she was steady before letting go. His whole body shook, his mouth opening and closing like that of a fish. His cheeks reddened with anger, and as Jane backed up she could see that he was drenched in sweat.

"Uh… thanks for saving me… again…" It was all she could think of to say.

Evidently, it had been the wrong thing. He sealed his mouth shut and his cheeks puffed out. His fists were clenched so tight that he could break the skin and bleed. Jane leaned back and closed her eyes, certain that he would blow any second. He did, but instead of the string of enraged Russian Jane expected, the noise he let out was little more than a shout of frustration, before he stormed off back the way they came.

He kicked a can out of his way as hard as he could. It flew into the air and vanished from sight, just as the soldier himself soon did around a corner. For a time, Jane waited, immobile. He never came back, and that duck carcass was starting to attract all manner of bugs. It would be inedible soon if nothing was done about it. That just made his behavior even worse in Jane's book She'd risked her head to get that thing back, and this was the thanks she got?

Jane turned to keep walking further into the city. If she went far enough, she'd come out the other end and reach the other side of the forest. Then she could leave this old ghost town behind and start a new notebook of tick marks.

After three steps, Jane spun around and followed the trail of footprints back to the dress shop. She passed it, casting one quick glance at the white dress first. Slowly but surely, the area became familiar to her. She recognized the hotel she'd slept in and the cafe where they'd eaten; the bookstore where she had last tried to talk to him and the supermarket where they met. The end of the line came in a place Jane hadn't expected. Her eyes trace the line of footprints that stopped at the door to the barbershop. Quiet sounds of things being moved came from within. Something crashed, and Jane backed away. The inside was too dark to see, but if he was going to trash the place, she wasn't about to stick around for it.

The calamity ended with a heavy thump like a sack hitting the floor. A deep, tired sigh came after, and then nothing.

Jane waited just to be sure. She released a breath and squared her shoulders, and then entered the barbershop. Glass was everywhere. She couldn't avoid crushing some under her feet. The soldier was in the far corner in one of the chairs. His head was down and he didn't react to the audible snapping of glass. The light was dimmer this far in. Jane squinted to get a better look at him. He had something in his hand, small and square. Jane moved aside a cart stacked with old boxes, allowing a ray of sunlight to hit them.

She peeked over his shoulder at the photograph. His hand shook slightly, like he wanted to remove it from sight but couldn't bring himself to. In the better lighting, Jane studied the image, the younger and happier version of the soldier and the frail looking man he stood with. There was something protective about that arm around his shoulder. The soldier's free hand was in his pocket, and he wore civilian clothes. Nevertheless, he carried himself like a man ready for action. A proper military man.

He still did, when she thought about it. There were more marked differences between the soldier of the past and the one of the present, but that one thing remained the same. Before now, that was all she'd ever seen of him, and she would never know how much of it had been real and how much a mask. Here he was now, a wounded, broken warrior alone in the world, clinging to this piece of the past like Jane clung to Darcy's text messages.

"Was he a friend of yours?"

Her voice was barely a whisper, but she knew he'd heard it. His fingers ran through tangled locks, coming up on knots every so often. He dropped the photo on the table and threw his head back. His eyes were closed tight, his mouth a hard line. He didn't seem to care how vulnerable he was. If there were any more bears running around, one could wander in here at any time, and it would definitely be hungry.

Jane picked up the photo without thinking. She almost dropped it again, fearing his wrath if he caught her with it, but his eyes stayed closed and he didn't move. He was so still that one would think he was dead were it not for the rise and fall of his chest. There was a cart next to his head carrying a bunch of old hair care supplies and a single pair of scissors, the blade of which was pointed in his direction.

A lightbulb went off in Jane's head. The idea was such that she almost let the photo slide between her fingers. Her voice of reason shrieked at how likely to get her killed this was, but Jane paid it no mind and grabbed the scissors. She propped the photo up on the table where the light was the strongest, and then she placed a hand on his head.

"Sit up."

He stared at her, incredulous. He saw the scissors in her hand and nearly sprang up.

"It's okay," Jane said, rubbing his shoulders to calm him. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just keep your head up for a few minutes, okay?"

His eyes were like those of a frightened little boy, but he did as she asked, staring straight ahead at the wall where a mirror once was. Jane combed his hair out over the seat and brought up the scissors. This was something she had done for herself more than once, but never for another person. She hoped she could get it right and not make his head look lopsided.

Chunks of hair fell to the floor as she worked, starting from the right and moving in. A few times, she checked the photo, not that it provided much of a reference. The finished job wasn't going to be nearly as clean, but as Jane finished up on the straggly end pieces, she saw something different in him with his face fully revealed. She could almost call it youthful.

Jane dropped the scissors back on the cart. There was a hand held mirror on the bottom shelf that hadn't a scratch on it. Maybe it would bring them good luck.

"What do you think?"

She held the mirror to his face. He reached out to take it, then stopped. His hand hovered in the air and slowly came to touch his face. It moved from his cheek to the bare back of his neck and fell away into his lap. He sat rigid, staring at his reflection like he had never seen anything like it. To Jane's horror, he threw himself onto the table, just missing her arm as he buried his head in his arms and let out a sob.

"Oh, oh no…" Jane backed away, careful not to touch his heaving back as she moved around him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I'll go."

"No!"

His hand shot out; their fingers laced together. Blunt nails scraped her skin, leaving faint white marks behind. He wiped the last of the tears off on his sleeve. His eyes were red and puffy and his breath hitched when he tried to speak.

"Plea- please don't go," he said. His voice cracked, but his English was perfect. Smooth and unaccented the way only a native speaker could manage. "I'm the one… who should be sorry."

He touched her face, caressing her cheek. His hands were rough like she thought they would be, but so gentle all the same.

"My name is James, no-" he looked at the photograph, stared at it for the longest time, and then his lips curved upwards. The lines on his forehead softened and disappeared. "It's Bucky. Call me Bucky."

"Okay," Jane said. She smiled back at him, pressing her hand into _his_ cheek. "Bucky…"

He let out a breath, like the sound of his name alone was cleansing to his spirit.

"And I… I like John le Carre," he said with a chuckle before his face grew serious. "And Jane, if I _ever_ catch you doing something as stupid as climbing that thing again, I'm going to tie you to a tree, we clear?"

He brought her hand to his lips, not quite kissing it, but holding it close and inhaling her scent. How long had it been since he'd felt another person's skin against his own? As long as Jane or even longer? Someday she might ask him. Today, she fell to her knees and let her forehead rest against his, reveling in this moment where they had each other and nothing else mattered.

"Clear."

**

Night had long since fallen, the new moon creating a pitch black sky, but the backup generator at the hotel was in miraculously good condition. For an amatuer engineer like Jane, it was almost too easy to get the thing going. For that night at least, they had working lights and central heating. They knew better than to waste it on sleeping.

Jane checked herself in the bathroom mirror. She had tried putting her hair up in a kind of fancy up-do, but found that her styling skills started and ended with haircuts. Everything she tried just made her head look like a misshapen blob. She settled for brushing it out to get a thicker look and leaving it down. She had no makeup or jewelry, or even a pin to keep her hair in place, but her face was clean and the white dress fit perfectly. She'd never bothered with those things before anyway. Why start now?

Jane left after one more double check, entering the ballroom where Bucky had cleared the dance floor and was now hunched over a portable radio he'd found in one of the rooms. He fitted a CD into the slot and pressed play. Up tempo jazz music played, a strange choice in Jane's mind. She hadn't taken him for an oldies type. Just one of the many things she was learning about him.

He grinned when he saw her, meeting her as the song picked up speed, but they weren't ready to start just yet.

"What do you think?" Jane asked, brushing the skirts to make them sway. "Pretty?"

He drank her in, his face a mirror of her own as she took in the dress shirt and suit jacket he'd changed into. The shirt was a bit small, but Jane didn't mind one bit. He took her hand, holding it tight like he'd never let go.

"Beautiful."

He pulled her into his arms. Jane rested her head on his chest and took in the warmth of him. She'd never in her life felt safer.

The first song ended and a new one started; a slow dance. They moved as one until the last song was over, and then they danced to their own music.

**Author's Note:**

> Russian Translations (courtesy of LenaAzarova):
> 
> "не иди за мной" - "Don't follow me."
> 
> "ты идиотка" - "You are an idiot."
> 
> "очень мило" - "Very nice."
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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